Blood on the Windowpanes
by NefarioussNess
Summary: Scott's been a shitty friend ever since the Bite. Now, with Stiles gone missing and the Alpha pack on the loose, Scott may never get another chance to make up for his past screw-ups if he doesn't act now. Warning: Some minor Sterek involved.
1. Scott McCall

"Stiles? Stiles!"

His vision shifted, allowing him to see clearer in the semi-darkness. Scott felt his fingernails lengthening, sharpening into claws as panic overtook him. He scanned the empty hallway, praying to God that he would be able to pick up Stiles' heartbeat within the silence.

God, he was such a fuck-up.

Scott wanted to blame all of this on the Bite and the incredible high he received from his newfound powers over the last few months. He wanted to blame the full moon for turning him into a selfish dick-bag every month. But blaming yourself, hating yourself for what he lacked was better. Sure, it made him feel even worse as a human being, but such masochistic thought patterns could be therapeutic to a teenager.

And man, did he ever fuck up when it came to Stiles.

Scott's heart had sunk into the pit of his stomach as he answered his cell earlier that evening, especially when he saw Stiles' number on the caller ID. During the past week, he, Derek, and Isaac had been trying to deal with the new threat that the arrival of the Alpha pack had brought to Beacon Hills. Scott was relieved to have someone else his age going through similar, wolfish changes, especially when they were on the same side and were actually becoming friends.

Spending time with Isaac also helped preoccupied his mind from thoughts about Allison. After their one-sided break-up, she had distanced herself from their group, and some of the members had been more than happy to comply with her self-isolation. After Lydia had found out the town's dirty little secret, she'd stopped talking to her former best friend. Scott could reluctantly understand her reasons: Allison did try to murder Jackson when he was still a kanima puppet. But with girls usually going through fleeting friendships like used tampons, it seemed somewhat normal to Scott.

Even if it did bother him.

Scott didn't want Allison to be alone. Loneliness could drive her back to being Grandpa's Little Villain, so naturally he feared for her.

What surprised Scott was Stiles' refusal to check up on Allison in his stead.

"I'm just not comfortable being around her right now," Stiles had confessed to him, one day after lacrosse practice. Jackson was nowhere to be seen, as he was presumed dead by the entire town. With Coach yelling at Greenberg for being incompetent and the collision of protective gear being passed around, it was nearly impossible for Scott and Stiles to be overheard.

"What? Why?" Scott had asked.

What really threw him off was the deadpan glare that his best friend gave him. "Do I really have to tell you, Scott? Are you fucking kidding me?"

Stiles' hair had grown out a bit; he actually had bangs for the first time since sixth grade. Scott hadn't really noticed it up until now. Actually, Scott had just begun to notice the dark circles under Stiles' eyes and how his lips had taken on a bruise-like colour. _Did Stiles lose weight?_ Scott wondered, now quickly scanning his friend's physique. Yeah, he definitely looked paler than normal.

"Please, enlighten me," Scott said, keeping his voice light. Stiles' blunt reaction left him feeling shocked and empty on the inside. But he didn't want to seem like his was accusing him of anything.

"I get it Scott," Stiles began. Scott noticed the slight tremble in Stiles' hands as he continued. "I get that you still care for her, which is good I guess. Shows that you aren't a heartless asshole. But she did a complete one-eighty on us. And yeah, I also get that her mom just passed away, but—but nobody changes that quickly, even in grief. It's just jarring. And pretty insulting that she decided to help Gerard. Remember how he was trying to kill Jackson?"

"She's sorry about what she did," Scott protested.

Stiles rolled his eyes. His hands were shaking harder than before. "Okay, maybe it's not just Allison that's the problem," Stiles muttered. He looked straight into Scott's face, and Scott sensed the pain, fear, and loathing cascading off of his body in waves. "It's also you."

"Me?" Scott exclaimed, a little too loudly.

The other boy nodded. "Yeah, but you're so fucking ignorant to it, it's not even funny."

"What have I done wrong, Stiles?" Scott stammered. He had never seen Stiles like this. Yeah, Stiles could get pretty annoyed with him at times, but he never seemed so… hostile like this.

"It just seems that ever since the Bite, and Allison coming into our lives," Stiles said, and Scott was suddenly overwhelmed by his frustration, "well…"

"What's wrong, Stiles?" Scott asked nervously.

"Nothing," Stiles muttered, shrugging his pack onto his shoulder. "It's nothing. I don't wanna blow up in your face with so many witnesses around. Don't need you to wolf out right now."

Scott stood there, completely stunned, as Stiles pushed past him and exited the locker room.


	2. Stiles Stilinski

No, he absolutely refused to guilt-trip Scott. He didn't want to leech out sympathy with such a shallow move; it would've been so pathetic on his part. So Stiles did what he usually wanted to do when it wasn't a life-or-death situation: he ignored the problem and ran out.

But he was still angry and giving Scott a hard time about it just felt… well, it helped him blow off a lot of mental steam. But lobbing lacrosse balls at his friend wasn't gonna help this time around.

Stiles made his way across the parking lot, looking down as he dug his keys out of his lacrosse bag. When he looked up, he nearly jumped and screamed.

Derek was standing in front of him, hands in his leather jacket's pockets.

The Alpha was barely giving him any space; maybe about six inches or so. Stiles licked his lips nervously, and tried to careen his way around Mr. Sourwolf, but Derek blocked his way.

"Out of the way, Derek," Stiles snapped, but his harsh tone faltered under Derek's gaze. He averted his eyes, bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet, waiting for Derek to demand a chore out of him.

"Where's Scott and Isaac?"

Oh come _fucking_ on.

Stiles rolled his eyes dramatically. "Same place where I just left him," Stiles muttered, nodding his head toward the school. "If you're having some little werewolf crisis, you better go get him. You know how he has a one-track mind. Better load it up with something before he gets any thoughts of his own."

Derek frowned, and Stiles was astounded by the human-like confusion that knitted his dark brows together. "You smell pissed off."

"I always wanted that fragrance on me," Stiles said sarcastically, trying to push past Derek, but the Alpha blocked his efforts. "Derek, get out of the fucking way."

"Not until you tell me what's going on," Derek growled, and Stiles winced under his glare. Even though he wasn't as afraid of Derek as he used to be, the guy could still inspire fearfulness in him.

"It's no concern of yours Derek," Stiles stammered, looking around him. The parking lot was empty, save for a few stragglers waiting for their rides or friends. Jesus, _that_ must be nice.

"What is it?" Derek growled stubbornly.

Stiles glared back at him. "It's a problem that falls short of your Alpha radar," he blurted out. "For once, it's not about you, the hunters, or the new fucking Alpha pack stalking around town. It's just a stupid Stiles Stilinksi problem."

"So it's personal… stuff."

Stiles threw up his hands. "Way to hit the target on that one, genius. Fuck, that's it, alright? Go find your Betas and just get out of my face!"

His words seemed to have triggered an impulsive decision within the Alpha. Derek suddenly grabbed Stiles by the left bicep, steering him roughly toward his parked Camaro. Stiles was too stunned to fight off and resist him. He was so fucking tired with the world that he didn't care that Derek Hale was manhandling him.

Derek opened up the passenger's side, and shoved Stiles and his bag in there before moving around to the driver's side. Stiles scrabbled to hold his bag in his lap as Derek swiftly pulled out of the forlorn parking lot and went out onto the main road.

"What is it with you Hales and randomly kidnapping me?"

"Shut up and put on your seatbelt," Derek growled. "I don't want to get a ticket from the Sheriff."

"I think you should be more concerned with him shooting you in the leg for taking me off to God-knows-where!"

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?"

Stiles grumbled, but he reluctantly complied. He didn't exactly trust Derek's driving skills, and he kind of wanted to live after this little excursion.

He needed to live for his dad's sake, after all.

After about ten minutes of relatively safe driving (Derek had blatantly ignored the last pair of red lights to get to whenever they were going) Derek pulled off into a different parking lot. It was completely empty, and it took Stiles a couple of seconds to realize that they were at the Beacon Hills Preserve. Derek silently climbed out of the car, and Stiles struggled with his shaking hands to unclasp his seatbelt before tumbling out.

"What are we doing here?" Stiles asked, looking around. A cool breeze rushed past him, and he shivered in his red hoodie. God, he was Red Riding Hood with all of these trees around.

_Please don't let Derek be the Big Bad Wolf_, Stiles silently pleaded.

Derek ignored him as he walked further into the Preserve. Stiles managed not to trip over his feet as he struggled to catch up. His lacrosse bag swung dangerously from his side, and he cursed at himself for not leaving it behind.

After about a half-hour trek Derek finally stops within a circle of trees. He crossed his arms and leans his back against a gnarled, twisted one as he waits for Stiles to catch up. Stiles pants, dropping his bag in front of him as he falls to his knees. He surveys the circle and is vaguely reminded of faerie circles that some Irish folklore talked about. His brain randomly reminded him of the time he looked up behind-the-scenes info on _Ella Enchanted_ way back when and how their footage would always be mysteriously ruined whenever they filmed within one of the circles.

Thinking of the movie reminded him of his mom.

Lately everything seems to be forcing back his repressed memories of her death. Stiles still felt ashamed about yelling at Lydia when really, he was angry at himself. Since then, he had given her and Jackson space to figure out their future together.

"What's on your mind?" Derek finally asked him.

Stiles blinked, unsure if he had heard him correctly. "What?"

"Don't make me repeat myself, Stiles."

Stiles stood up, staring at the older man, utterly befuddled. Derek Hale dragged him all the way from school to the Preserve to ask him about his fucking feelings?

"Why do you care?"

Derek rolled his eyes as he pushed himself off of the tree, and stalked toward Stiles. Stiles held his ground, refusing to be scared off by Grumpy Wolf.

Derek was now getting incredibly close to him, and Stiles hadn't noticed that he had started to backpedal away from him until his back slammed against the trunk of a tree. So much for holding his ground.

"Because I can tell when someone's bottling up a lot of shit that they refuse to talk about," Derek growled. Stiles could barely breathe as Derek grabbed his shoulders and pinned him against the tree, glowering at him.

"You should know, I guess," Stiles snapped. "I can barely tell what you're thinking half the time."

Derek growled, and Stiles could feel it vibrate against his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt Derek's claws sprout from his fingertips, digging into Stiles' hoodie. Luckily, Derek had enough self-control to not puncture the skin. Stiles faintly wondered what would've happened if Derek didn't have his wolf-turning STD churning inside of his Alpha body.

"With werewolves, we can let off steam by challenging each other to a fight," Derek said stubbornly. "But with humans, their problems are so damn _complicated_ that you have to take a different… approach to them."

"So you do that by dragging their asses to a piece of wildlife and pray that they don't get mauled while they're there?"

"Stiles…"

"No!" Stiles shouted, pushing at Derek. Surprisingly, Derek released him, taking a step back as he did so. "No, I don't understand why we're even here in the first place! You demand that I tell you what's on my mind, but most in the time I'm in the dark about _you_! There's no halfway point with you! Jesus Christ, everyone thinks I'm okay all the time, that Stiles Stilinski is great to have in a crisis! Yeah well, maybe I can be, but not right now, alright? Don't we have any fucking therapists in this town?! It's not like I want to spill my deep, dark secrets to a hired stranger, because it's even less appealing than talking to you!"

Stiles felt an enormous lump forming in his throat, but he refused to cry, not in front of the Alpha. He was too pissed off to even notice that Derek's usually taunt shoulders had slumped, how awkward his hands looked at his sides as he watched Stiles.

"Do you know how traumatizing it is to get kidnapped when you finally do something worthwhile?!" Stiles screamed at him. His entire body was violently shaking, and his face was flushed crimson as, oh God, the tears started tumbling down his cheeks. "I finally do something right with my fucked-up little life and then all of that shit starts to do down! It's one thing to get paralyzed by the spawn of Curt Connors, but it's an entirely different fucking matter when some decrepit old man can beat the shit out of you! Not to mention finding out much later that Peter fucking Hale's somehow alive, and thanks so fucking much for warning us, Derek! You're such a piece of shit, you know that?! Do you know how afraid I was for Lydia that night?! Do you know how weak I felt that the only thing I could do for her was beg for her life and was forced to help her attacker?! I was scared shitless for her! I didn't even care about myself! Wow, I must have some fucking great self-esteem, don't I?!"

Stiles was breathing hard; he couldn't get the oxygen into his lungs fast enough. This was like one of the panic attacks he would frequently get after his mom's death. Derek hesitated, but finally reached out, grasping Stiles' shoulders to keep him steady.

"And you know what the worst part is? All of this could've been avoided if I didn't bring Scott with me into the woods that night! He got bitten because of me! I'm losing my best friend to the supernatural world and I'm the one that caused it! Lydia would've been safe! I wouldn't have to keep lying to my dad to cover our asses! And most of the time, I feel like Scott doesn't appreciate any of this shit I go through for him! I don't want to say anything—I almost did today, though—but right now I feel like I'm being taken advantage of at every turn! Did he even care when I went missing at the game?! No, ever since Allison turned up, that's all it's ever been about! Control my powers for Allison! Stop the Alpha and the kanima and the hunters to keep fucking Allison Argent safe! I've known him since the first grade, but the minute Allison showed up that's all he ever thinks and talks about! Sometimes, I feel like telling him to fuck off if he's gonna be so narrow-minded, but I don't, and you wanna know why? Because I still love him and without him I got no one else!"

Stiles' chest was heaving. He felt himself sliding down the length of the tree, and if Derek wasn't there to—surprisingly—gently guide him down, he would've collapsed then and there. His senses were overloaded with the stench of salty tears still cascading from his eyes, and he wiped them away quickly.

He felt embarrassed that Derek had to see him break down like this. He tried to regulate his breathing, but he kept choking on air.

Derek was crouched in front of him, still holding his shoulders. "Why are you being so stupid?" he said.

"Geez, way to knock a guy while's he down, asshole."

But Derek gripped his shoulders tighter, staring into his eyes. "You're a fucking idiot if you think you're worthless. I hate to admit it, but you've saved my ass quite a bit."

"I was under the impression that you were gonna tear my throat out," Stiles joked, "with your teeth." His smile never reached his eyes.

"Scott's an asshole for ignoring you… like this," Derek said. "I don't know how you put up with his bullshit at times."

"Human willpower," Stiles muttered. "Not that you would know anything about that."

"Shut up," Derek growled, and before Stiles realized it Derek had snaked his hand around the back of Stiles' neck and had pulled him in. Stiles' eyes widened as Derek's lips crushed against his, drawing the breath out of his body. Stiles tensed up momentarily, but then found himself closing his own eyes as his trembling fingers reached out to cup Derek's dark jawline. Stiles felt Derek's hands run through his newly grown-out hair, and his heart flutter when he heard a moan escaped from the Alpha's mouth.

As their lips parted, Derek looked into Stiles' eyes. Stiles somehow knew what that look meant—amazing what the internet could teach you about dating and all of that relationship crap—and he nodded slowly. Derek growled, and grabbed Stiles around his thighs as he lifted them both up and slammed Stiles into the tree. Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek's neck as the older man began to assault his exposed, white throat with his mouth. Thankfully, Derek managed to keep himself in control long enough to avoid sprouting fangs, but Stiles still finds him biting him along his jugular with very human teeth.

Stiles gasps and sucks in his breath, trying to stifle his own laughter. Derek's mouth had made his way back to Stiles', and Stiles grabs his face with both hands, almost possessively, as Derek's tongue forces its way past the barrier of teeth. Stiles moans longingly as one of Derek's hands goes underneath Stiles' shirt and trails up his spine.

"Looks like Beacon Hills' lone Alpha is having a good time," smirked Leslie. She and her twin brother Adam—an Alpha like herself—watched as the dorky little human and the wolf went at it within the ring of trees.

Adam looked away, rolling his eyes in disgust. "Can't they get a room? I don't think I'll be able to stomach anything we eat for a week at least."

"Well, _I'm_ enjoying the free show," Leslie smirked, "and I'm sure that Kendra will be very interested in hearing about this little development."

"I wonder if they invented brain bleach yet," Adam muttered, following his twin as they retreated further into the Preserve.


	3. Isaac Lahey

"Where the hell is Derek?" Isaac wondered out loud. The locker room was completely empty now, save for him and Scott. The other Beta—or was he still considered an Omega? Scott still wasn't an official member of the pack yet—frowned, his mind in a far off place.

Isaac shrugged, running his fingers through his dark blonde hair. Derek was usually punctual, especially if he was calling the shots. Isaac didn't mind; Derek didn't hit him unnecessarily. He felt wanted by him, and that was enough.

Isaac no longer stayed at his late father's house. It was nothing more than a storage unit for his few belongings and food that he ate. Besides, the house held too many haunting memories: his father drinking one too many Jack Daniels before using Isaac's head for target practice with the empty bottle. The slurred blaming game for his older brother's death.

The freezer with the lock on it, and—

_Stop,_ he told himself. Those days were gone now. He had Scott, Derek, and even that cool vet that Scott worked for. Yeah, Dr. Deaton was pretty cool. There was something mysterious about him too, though Isaac couldn't quite put it on his finger at the moment.

"Hey, Scott?" Isaac said softly.

Scott jumped as he looked at Isaac. He seemed to have forgotten that Isaac was in the room. "Yeah, what? Sorry," he muttered. "Oh right, Derek. Yeah, why don't we just leave without him?"

Isaac's eyes grew wide; he had never considered that. "He said he was coming here right after practice," Isaac protested shyly. "Aren't you worried? What if,"—and here his voice lowered, as if someone could overhear them—"One of the new Alphas got him?"

"We could look for him, if you like," Scott suggested half-heartedly.

Isaac's spirit soared at the thought. Finding Derek and assisting him in battle sounded much more fun and proactive right now. Maybe wolfing out would get Scott out of this weird slump he's been in since the end of practice.

Shouldering his bag, he grinned at Scott. "So, where do you wanna start?"

"How about right here?"

Both Betas turned their heads toward the source of the voice. A young woman with short dark hair and brown eyes appeared around the corner of the chain of lockers. She smirked arrogantly, and Isaac sensed bloodlust in her. Isaac frowned; how did she sneak up on them without them smelling her out first?

"Oh come _on_," drawled the woman, rolling her eyes as she held up a fistful of dirty lacrosse jerseys. "Never tried this trick before? But you're just two stupid little Betas, aren't you?"

Scott glared at her as his claws snapped into place. His power stance faltered slightly when the woman's eyes glowed red.

Isaac's heart nearly stopped. _An Alpha,_ he thought wildly.

"It's disgusting," said a second voice, and Isaac whipped around to face it. A man around the woman's age stalked toward them, his mouth set in a tight, grim line. "That's probably why they'd never considered it, Leslie." The man's eyes were also blazing scarlet underneath his messy dark fringe.

_Twins?_ Isaac guessed silently, noticing their similar facial structures. Families tended to shared physical traits, obviously. (His father had often insulted him for looking too much like his mother.) His fangs and claws lengthened, and he gave a low growl.

The woman, Leslie, smirked at her brother. "Don't be such a pansy, Adam."

"What do you two want?" Scott demanded. Isaac could sense the sliver of fear in his voice, but hopefully his faux fearlessness would overcompensate and disturb the twin Alphas.

Hopefully.

Adam rolled his eyes. "That's not really your concern, little Betas," he scoffed.

"Yeah," grinned Leslie, edging closer to Scott. "You should be more worried about—oh, I don't know—how the police will explain your broken, mangled corpses to your families."

"Really?" Scott groaned. "You're really gonna do the whole 'we're arrogant and better than you' shtick?"

"But we _are_ better than you," Leslie cackled. "It's a simple pyramid of Omega-Beta-Alpha. So get used to us being at the top, sweet potato."

If this any been any other situation, Isaac would of laughed at the idea that Scott had just been insulted with a _Toy Story 3_ reference. But they were cornered, and even though it was two-on-two, they were still outmatched.

But he had Scott at his side, and Derek believed in him. They weren't going to die today.

Leslie lunged at Scott, and then all hell broke loose. Leslie ducked and dodged Scott's attempts to rip his claws into her ribcage. Meanwhile, Isaac barrelled toward Adam, claws outstretched as he aimed for his stomach. Adam lazily moved out of the way, then grabbing Isaac by the shoulders. He twisted the young Beta painfully around, and kicked him in the spine, which sent Isaac flying into a row of lockers. Isaac hissed in pain as he felt several ribs crack. Adam made his way over to him, fangs elongating from his mouth.

"Don't touch me without my permission, you little shit."

_You little shit!_ his father would scream at him. _You should've died instead!_

Isaac flinches at the memory, scrunching up into a ball on the floor. Adam cocks his head to one side. "What's wrong?" he asks mockingly. He leans in to sniff at Isaac, like he would be able to smell the faded bruises and terrifying nights in the freezer on his skin.

Adam's eyes widened as a pair of claws swiped his across his shoulder blades, filling the air with the smell of copper. He turned away from Isaac to face Scott, who had fully wolfed out.

"Get away from him," Scott snarled. He gave Isaac a quick nod, and Isaac shot up onto his feet and stabbed Adam in the back.

Adam roared, and Leslie grabbed Scott by the throat, pulling him away from Adam before kicking him into the stomach.

"Try that again, and they'll be searching for your intestines for a month," she snarled as she squeezed Scott's windpipes. Scott gave out a strangled gasp as he tried to release himself from her grip.

Adam had turned back to Isaac, but Isaac was ready this time. The young Beta grabbed Adam by the shoulders, and tossed him across the room. The cracking of ribs resonated across the room. Adam moaned as he stared at Isaac with a mixture of loathing and amazement.

"ADAM!" Leslie screamed. She glared at Scott, and in a tenth of a second, she'd reached down with her free hand and snapped Scott's leg at a disturbing angle. Scott roared in pain, and dropped to the floor when Leslie released him. Isaac raced over to Scott just as the female Alpha grabbed her twin's hand and raced out of the locker room.

"Oh fuck," Scott hissed between clenched teeth. Isaac looked down, and nearly vomited. Bile crept up the back of his throat when he saw bone poke out of Scott's skin along with a stream of dark blood.

"I gotta… snap it back… in place…" Scott moaned miserably, and gave Isaac a knowing look. Isaac weakly nodded, and grasped either side of the broken leg. He closed his eyes, and snapped it back into place. Scott was sweating bullets, but the bone was weaving back together, the broken skin stitching itself whole again.

It was sickening. If they hasn't been blessed with super healing, Scott could've been crippled, Bran Stark style.

"Why were the Alphas here?" Isaac asked, trembling. His shaky movements ceased when Scott grabbed his shoulder, staring into his eyes.

"Think about it," Scott said, watching Isaac for his reaction. "They must know that Derek has a couple of Betas in Beacon Hills. Wherever Derek is, he must be pretty damn preoccupied. They waited for that moment, and decided to try and take out the weaker wolves."

Isaac nodded vigorously. It made sense. "So they're trying to take Derek out, by thinning out our pack?"

Scott sighed. "Looks like it." He frowned, and Isaac noticed how his heart rate screamed in panic.

"What's wrong?"

"They won't just go after the wolves," Scott said hastily. "Humans are fair game just as much as us."

Isaac's heart sunk when he realized what his fellow Beta was saying. "Allison?"

Surprisingly, Scott shook his head. "She's been… keeping her distance ever since the whole kanima fiasco. The Alphas arrived after all that. They won't suspect her, I hope."

"Then, Lydia?"

Scott nodded automatically. He hissed in pain as he tenderly stood up. Isaac followed suit. Scott gingerly tested out his newly-healed leg. "Lydia's with Jackson. They'll go after any loved ones we have, just to take us down. To take Derek down." Scott's eyes widened in realization and… guilt?

"Stiles," Scott muttered, just as he dashed out of the locker room. Isaac quickly followed, chasing after Scott as the Beta pulled out of his cell phone, and pressed a button for his speed dial.

"Stiles? Where the hell are you?"


	4. Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski II

They were tangled in the damp leaves. Derek was on top of Stiles, pinning him down with his legs. His hands gripped Stiles' wrists, holding them above his head as the Alpha attacked his throat with human teeth. He bit down hard, but not enough to break the skin and draw blood.

Stiles is panting like he'd just run a triathlon. Moans escaped from his gaping mouth as Derek dragged his tongue against his bruising throat, lapping at the soft skin before making its way up Stiles' jawline and then across his mouth. Derek greedily shoved his tongue down the teen's throat as Stiles groaned longingly.

All of that untainted rage and sadness that Stiles smelled of had awoken something feral within Derek. The emotions had been so pure and relentlessly raw that his self-restraint has snapped free, causing him to reach for Stiles and _take him._

In other words, Stiles was making him very, very horny.

Their lips broke apart, and Derek stared down at Stiles, watching him for a reaction. Derek's chest was heaving, trying to catch his breath. Stiles' tears had dried long ago—how long had they been at each other now?—and now there was desperation shining in his eyes.

_You're taking advantage of an emotionally fucked-up minor_, Derek's common sense was telling him, but the impatient wolf within him shoved it aside.

It's not wrong, there's nothing wrong with this, Stiles gave his consent—well, there were no spoken words, but that glance from before was enough, right?

Dammit, common sense was overtaking him. Derek growled, trying to push away the guilty thoughts.

Derek's mouth reached for Stiles' neck, pressing rough kisses against it. Stiles was breathing hard, and he moaned loudly as Derek began to thrust into him, like a dog in heat.

_"Derek,"_ Stiles moaned, closing his eyes from the intense pleasure. "Oh God, oh my God, _oh._"

_You're no better than Kate,_ said a cruel voice in his head, and Derek jerked back. He released Stiles' wrist, and planted his hands into the ground, fisting mounds of wet leaves. Stiles opened his eyes, staring up at Derek, who was still on top of him.

_You're going to Hell for fucking someone this… broken,_ chuckled the voice, and Derek gritted his teeth, forcing his fangs back. The taunting echo within his skull sounded eerily like Peter.

He hadn't seen the sly bastard for about a week. His uncle had made the excuse that he had to attend to something important, and had disappeared.

Derek barely registered that Stiles had propped himself up on his elbows, and was now glaring at him. "What gives?" he demanded.

The Alpha stared at him, panic and guilt washing over him for what he'd just done. Thank God that both of them were still fully clothed, that it hadn't too out of hand.

_You already went too far._

Stiles had grabbed the front of Derek's leather jacket, and his fists were shaking. "What the fuck?" he hissed. "Seriously, what the hell, man?" Realization dawned on his face, and he pushed at Derek. The Alpha stood up, but too quickly, giving the teen an even worse assumption about… this situation.

"Oh my God," Stiles screamed, covering his face. Derek watched him silently, forcing his inner wolf down. If it weren't for this heavy guilt now spreading across his conscience, he would be tearing at Stiles' clothes, stripping away the layers until he was exposed and then fuck him so hard until they both screamed in pleasure.

_He's a kid,_ he told himself. _He's human. You'll break him. All you're good at is breaking things._

Stiles was shaking again, but this time with anger. He shot to his feet, stepping away from Derek. "What the hell, Derek? Can you stop flip-flopping? One moment you're all over me and—oh my God! Was this pity sex?" he screamed.

"We didn't have sex," Derek growled, and a new wave of guilt threatened to drown him. It had almost happened. Hastily losing your virginity would be meaningless; it would leave you feeling empty inside.

Just like when he lost his to Kate.

"We were getting there!" Stiles protested, and his face flushed crimson at his own outburst. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck! How fucked up am I?!" Stiles had covered his face again—no, he was clawing at it with blunt nails. The scent of overwhelming panic, angry, and brokenness was thick on his skin, rolling off of Stiles like tidal waves. If he didn't calm down soon, he would send Derek into a frenzy.

Derek stepped forward, and grabbed Stiles' wrists, holding them away from his face. Angry red lines covered his cheeks from where his nails had struck them. "Stop it," he ordered.

Stiles tried to rip himself free from the Alpha's grasp, but that just gave Derek more incentive to cling on. "What the hell was your end game, Derek, by bringing me out here? You keep giving me mixed signals! Do you wanna fuck me or not?!"

_Yes,_ Derek thought desperately. _Oh God, yes. But not like this. Not when you're broken and miserable in this way._

The jarring ring of a cell phone alerted Derek, bringing his focus back to their argument. They were still in the Preserve, and it had been hauntingly quiet until Stiles' phone suddenly went off. Derek released Stiles, and the younger boy shoved his hand into his pocket.

He rolled his eyes as he stared at the screen. Derek quickly leaned forward; the caller ID read _Scott._

"Are you going to answer it?" Derek asked.

Stiles kept staring at it, hesitating. Then he shook his head. "Now he wants to talk?" Stiles muttered. He clicked on the _End Call_ button, and clenched the phone into his fist. "If Scott wants to talk, then he's gonna have to do it face-to-face."

Derek sighed. Stiles seemed determined to stay pissed at him.

"So what about us?" Stiles demanded. His eyes were red, and he bit his lip, trying to hold back an onslaught of tears. "Were you just… faking all that or something?" He waved his arms around in frustration.

Derek's face was stony; he didn't want to cause Stiles to have a mental breakdown. "Stiles," he began, but Stiles held up his shaking hands.

"I don't want any excuses, Derek. Please, if you can't be fucking honest with me right now—"

The Alpha watched Stiles, and then he heard twigs snap. Then a pair of heartbeats, dangerous and unknown, were coming rapidly forward them.

"Stiles!" Derek shouted, as he shoved Stiles behind him. Stiles stumbled as Derek's eyes glowed red, baring his fangs. He quickly turned, tossing Stiles his keys. "Get out of here now!" he ordered. Stiles looked down at the keys, then back at Derek, and nodded furiously. He ran back, dodging his way past narrow trees.

_Why did I have to bring us so far in?_ Derek scolded himself. _He's finished if they catch him._

Derek promised himself that the two would talk later, but it'd be impossible to do that if they were both dead. He snapped out his claws, and dashed forward as an inhuman blur raced toward him. They made contact, smacking into each other in midair, and came crashing down into the hard ground.

Derek found himself being straddled underneath the enemy, whose eyes glowed with the hellish red of an Alpha. Derek felt his wolfish features taking over as he struck the Alpha across the face. It ripped across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, leaving deep fissures that poured out dark blood.

His attacker seemed unfazed by the injury. "You must be Laura's baby brother," smirked the Alpha, wiping his already-healing flesh. His brown hair was a wild mess, sticking out in every direction. He bared his fangs casually at Derek, who growled back.

Derek suddenly grabbed the Alpha's shoulders, and tossed him over his head. The Alpha went flying into some the trees behind him, giving Derek enough time to jump back to his feet. He twisted around, just as the Alpha came at him, a devilish grin on his face.

_ He said Laura, _Derek thought angrily. _How would he know her?!_ After the fire, him and Laura were always together; she'd taken him everywhere and together they'd met and experienced a different life. Sometime, Laura would meet someone and would immediately introduce Derek to them.

He'd never seen this guy in his entire life.

"Come on, you don't remember me?" the Alpha pouted, giving Derek a crazy look. "You got to admit, I'm not an easy guy to forget."

But Derek just roared in response. _Keep distracting this asshole,_ he told himself. _Give Stiles enough time to run away. _

"Worried about your little whore?" the Alpha cackled, as if he could read Derek's mind. His hair seemed to crackle with newfound energy, and he laughed when Derek gave him a venomous look. "You know, the term Alpha _pack_ refers to more than just one wolf."

Derek's eyes widened. That's right, he'd heard two heartbeats instead of one. Christ, the other one had to be…

"You're so lucky that I'm not the one tailing him," chuckled the deranged Alpha, twisting his body into an attack stance.

* * *

He was running, a searing pain growing in his sides. Stiles panted heavily, swinging his arms forward to give him more momentum. He nearly tripped once he reached a steep slope, and raced down it, trying not to slam into a tree as he made his way downward.

His anger and frustration with Derek had been momentarily put aside, and was instead replaced with panic and fear.

It had to be the Alphas.

He felt his chest constrict at the thought. There was no way he was going to be able to outrun a fucking Alpha.

Just then a sharp blow struck him across the back of his neck, and Stiles wildly thought that the kanima had somehow returned. He fell to the ground face-first, struggling to catch his breath. Derek's keys had flown out of his hand, and he stretched out his bruised arm, trying to reclaim it. He yelped out in pain as a leather boot came crunching down on his hand, crushing it to the ground.

He looked up, and his stomach sank. A woman—probably in his late twenties or early thirties—hovered over him, her eyes flashing red underneath her dark brown bangs. Her face was expressionless as she cocked her head to one side, inspecting Stiles carefully.

"You must be Derek's," she said blankly. She reached down and grabbed a fistful of Stiles' shirt as she brusquely pulled him to his feet. "I'm sorry, but I need to kidnap you now," she whispered in his ear, and Stiles could've sworn she sounded apologetic, just as she knocked him out with a powerful punch.


	5. Scott McCall II

_"Hey, this is the phone of one Stiles Stilinski. If this is a life-or-death situation, don't bother leaving a message but just redial at the beep. Hopefully I'll pick up at the next ring!"_

"Shit," Scott growled, snapping his phone shut. The hallways were deserted, and the only noise came from the pounding of Scott and Isaac's footsteps as they dashed to the exit. Scott burst through the door, his head swinging around wildly. Some cars were still in the parking lot, and Scott's heart dropped when he recognized the blue Jeep poised crookedly between a set of yellow lines.

"Stiles!" he shouted, racing over to the vehicle. He heightened his senses, allowing his eyes to gleam gold as he approached the Jeep. Scott looked down, and saw a ring of keys on the pavement.

"No…" he murmured, bending down to pick them up. No, this couldn't be happening, not now.

"What'd you find?" Isaac asked, now standing next to Scott. Scott held up the keys, and Isaac's eyes widened.

"Maybe they're somebody else's?" Isaac suggested weakly.

Scott shook his head. "No, these are definitely his." Scott knew these keys; they had Stiles' scent all over them. He looked around before inspecting the driver's door. "No sign of a struggle," he concluded, drifting his hand over the door's handle.

"Maybe he just dropped them?" Isaac reasoned, shrugging his shoulders. Scott glared at him, and immediately regretted it. Isaac looked so lost and helpless next to him. It wasn't his fault; this was Scott's own stupidity for allowing this to happen.

"If Stiles went with his kidnappers willingly, then why would he drop his keys?" Scott wondered out loud. He nearly snapped the keys in half as he clenched them in his fist.

"I dunno, to give you a clue?" Issac suggested. "You know, like in _The Two Towers_?" When Scott continued to give you a blank look, Isaac sighed dramatically. "Remember when Pippin left behind his cloak's pendent for Aragorn to find, to give them a trail to follow?"

Realization dawned on Scott's face. "So Stiles is still alive?"

Isaac shrugged. "I hope so. Why else would he leave his keys behind? Besides, you said there were no signs of a struggle. Stiles would have to deliberately drop them in order to lose them, right?"

"Yeah, yeah," Scott nodded. "Yeah, of course!" Hope fluttered in his chest; they had a chance after all.

Isaac smiled. "So where should we start?"

* * *

Breaking in was the easy part (well, it helped that he had Stiles' keys on hand). Scott and Isaac crouched behind a pair of bushes just across from the Stilinski home, making sure that the coast was clear. The driveway was deserted; the Sheriff must've started his night shift.

Scott nodded at Isaac, who gave him a wide-eyed look. They bolted across the street and to the front door. Scott shoved the house key into the lock, and turned it hastily. Once inside, they carefully closed and bolted the door before making their way up the flight of stairs. Scott automatically swung his body in the direction of Stiles' room, his heart thundering in his chest. His vision flashed red for a brief moment, bathing his world in blood.

_No, his keys were there. That's a good sign, right?_

He wanted to desperately believe in Isaac's hunch, but what if it was just a ruse? What if Stiles—?

_They're using him as bait. They'll keep him alive long enough to lure us in._

Scott blinked, his human eyes returning to him. Isaac was watching him. "What are we getting from his room, exactly?" he asked innocently. Scott sighed. He'd been jumping the gun, hoping that Stiles could somehow leave them a clue at his house.

The Alphas—would they leave a ransom note?

"I remember Deaton giving Stiles some books a couple of days ago," Scott explained. "I bet you he gave him something useful. Hopefully something to help protect himself."

He vaguely recalled the conversation that his mysterious employer and his best friend held in hushed tones while Scott was busy checking on the animals. His super-hearing had led to him unintentionally eavesdropping, but even then he barely paid attention. He just caught weird snippets: _"…these hexes will be useful, Stilinski…" "…preventing an Alpha bite? Yeah right!" "…find the ingredients here… You're perfect for this…"_

Scott opened the door, and stepped inside. Stiles' room was relatively clean—and then his eyes caught sight of his desk. A massacre of papers and books were strewn across the top, threatening to topple onto the floor. Scott walked over to it, scanning the closest papers. Hexagrams—or were they pentagrams? Scott didn't really follow the occult—were drawn on them, with what looked like Latin scrawled messily underneath.

Isaac stood next to Scott, nervously picking up one of the books. "Hey," Isaac said, opening it at random, "looks like he marked a spot."

Scott looked over, and his eyes widened. He was instantly drawn to the pentagram in the center of the page. He couldn't make the wording, but his stomach dropped when he looked over and saw a similar design on a scrap of paper on Stiles' desk. He picked it up, and held it up for a side-by-side comparison.

"This is some weird Satanic shit right here," Isaac murmured.

"No," Scott said, his mouth going dry when he saw the remnants of blood sticking to the page. "This is magic. Stiles, what are you doing?" It was just then that it clicked. What if Stiles hadn't been kidnapped against his own will? What if he had—?

The two Betas jumped when a jarring ring echoed throughout the room. Scott looked down when he realized that his pocket was buzzing. He reached in, pulling out his cell. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the caller ID.

"Stiles!" he exclaimed. Isaac looked at him in surprise, raising his eyebrows slightly. "Where the hell are you?! Jesus, I was so worried about you! Listen, I think I know what you're planning, and—"

_"Is that really his name?"_ said an unfamiliar voice on the other end. Scott froze, clutching the phone tightly. _"He wouldn't tell me. Well, he _has_ been unconscious for a while."_

The voice was feminine, and felt… insanely powerful. "Who is this?!" Scott yelled. Isaac winced next to him.

The voice sighed. _"You must be one of Derek's Betas,"_ she said flatly. _"And I'm assuming you know… Stiles? What an unusual name."_

"What did you do to him?" Scott demanded angrily. He felt his fangs growing itself his mouth, grazing against each other. "I swear to God, if you don't tell me where he is, I'll—!"

_"What will you do?"_ said the woman calmly. _"Continue to play the role of a tough guy? Try to threaten to tear my throat out? I mean you no offense, but you're dealing with an Alpha, hon. You stand no chance. And Stiles is human. Put two-and-two together, and rethink your strategy for a second."_

Shit. Scott's free hand raked through his hair as frustration coursed throughout his body. Stiles was human. A human that was apparently dabbling in the occult, but still no match for a werewolf on his own. If Scott did anything hasty, then Stiles would pay for it. He was in the Alpha's clutches, and in that moment, Scott felt utterly helpless.

"Where can we meet?" he asked through clenched teeth.

He could practically see the Alpha woman smiling on the other end. _"Aren't you going to demand to hear from Stiles himself?"_ she asked.

"What?"

_"For all you know, I may not have your friend here at all,"_ the Alpha explained. _"Hypothetically, I could've just stolen this phone from him and found your name on his speed-dial. I may be leading you into a trap."_

"Why are you saying this?"

_"It's common sense, Beta."_

Scott hesitated for a moment. Why dish out the advice? But she was right. He had to make sure. "Please," Scott begged. "I need to make sure he's still alive. Let me talk to him."

"I'll wake him up for you."

Shuffling could be heard on the other end. Scott bit his lip; his fangs had retracted back into human, nonlethal teeth. There was gentle whispering, and then a loud groan. Throughout all this, Isaac was watching Scott intently.

Scott nearly dropped his phone when a weak _"Scott?"_ crackled on the other end.


	6. Stiles Stilinski III, Scott McCall III

"Wake up, hon."

Stiles groaned, blinking groggily as his vision went in and out of focus. The smell of rotting wood and debris filled his nostrils, and suddenly he was wide awake. Stiles felt unbalanced; he then suddenly realized why there was a tugging sensation coming from his left arm. It dangled limply above him; handcuffed to a steel pipe that was screwed in the wall he was leaning against. He shook it, causing metal to clatter against metal.

It was just at that moment that he suddenly realized that he wasn't alone.

Stiles pushed himself tightly against the wall, drawing his legs up against his chest. The Alpha woman from before—the one with that wicked punch—was kneeling in front of him. Her hand hovered in front of his face, holding his phone. The caller ID read Scott's name.

"You're wanted on the phone," she said, unsmiling. Stiles stared at her, hesitating. The Alpha sighed, and gently pressed the phone into his right hand. "You have thirty seconds," she told him, her irises bleeding into that deathly red color.

"Scott?" Stiles murmured weakly.

A huge sigh of relief came from the other end. _"Oh thank God!"_ exclaimed Scott. _"You're alive! Jesus, Stiles, I was so—Are you OK? They didn't break anything? Bite you?"_ That last question came with bated breath, and a twinge of fear.

Stiles shook his head, the realized how useless that gesture was. "What? No, no, I'm… My face hurts from getting punched, and I'm pretty sure that the veins in my arms have been exhausted of any blood they had."

_"What?!"_

Stiles rattled his handcuff. "I'm chained to a pipe, buddy. I kind of need your wolf powers to help snap it in half. I need this hand for my alone time, y'know?"

Avoiding the situation at hand with lighthearted humor… Yeah, that'll help him in his predicament. What he wasn't prepared for was hearing Scott's voice crack on the other end.

_"Where are they keeping you, Stiles?"_

Stiles shrugged, then surveyed the room he was in. "Somewhere dark and rotting. Really disused; must've been out of service for a while—"

The phone was suddenly snatched out of his hand by the Alpha. The woman clamped a hand over his protesting mouth as she held the phone up to her ear. "Are you satisfied, Beta?" she asked blankly. Stiles could hear a muffle of angry snarling coming from the other end, which the Alpha shook her head to. "You're useless without your Watson, aren't you?" she replied. "_Don't_ use that tone with me. I can easily snap his neck with one hand if you don't calm down." Stiles gasped into her hand as her claws shot out of her fingertips, embedding themselves into Stiles' face. Dark blood trickled from the puncture wounds, stinging like hell.

"Are you under control? Good. Then I'll let you speak to him again."

She released Stiles' face, causing a stinging pain to sear through the wounded flesh. Stiles gingerly rubbed his sleeve against it, smearing the fabric with dark blood. The Alpha handed him back the phone, giving him a warning look.

* * *

_"Hey, it's me again."_

Scott ran his fingers through his hair. He was conscious of how his claws scraped against his phone, and he ordered himself to stay calm.

That was nearly an impossible task.

"Stiles—"

_"You know that this could very well be a trap for you and Derek, right?"_

Scott frowned. "Derek?"

_"Think about it for one minute. Alpha pack in another Alpha's territory. Pack as in at least two."_

"You saw two Alphas?"

_"One of them, but I know that there's another one lurking around out there."_

Scott recalled the Alpha twins that attacked him and Isaac earlier. "Round that out to four."

Stiles scoffed lightly from his end. _"Two was already an even number dumbass—what do you mean,_ four?!"

"A pair of them paid me and Isaac a visit earlier," Scott answered, looking at Isaac. "They're strong Stiles. Please don't do anything reckless. We could barely take them on _with_ powers, and with you—"

_"I'm not an idiot, Scott."_

Scott's heart sank. "I didn't say that."

_"I know,"_ Stiles replied, and Scott could practically see the smirk on his face. "_Just hurry it up buddy, my arm's starting to go numb."_

A small yelp and muffled static came from the other end. The Alpha woman must've disconnected their conversation.

"Stiles?!"

Scott's mind began to whirl with possibilities. Stiles had given him one clue: _Somewhere dark and rotting. Really disused; must've been out of service for a while._

"You heard all that, right?" Scott asked Isaac. The Beta nodded, his brow already creased in concentration.

"Somewhere abandoned?" Isaac muttered. He pressed his fist to his lip, biting his knuckles. He frowned, and became silent for a while before saying, "There was that warehouse that they shut down about ten years ago."

"A warehouse?" How original of them.

"Yeah," Isaac replied, nodding his head. "It's close to the cemetery. I passed by it every time I had a shift there." The Beta grinned, shaky confidence on his lips. "That's gotta be the place."

"Doesn't hurt to try," said Scott, giving Isaac a reassuring pat on the shoulder. He gave a final glance at Stiles' desk before bolting out of his room.

* * *

"So what's the plan here?" Stiles asked, watching the Alpha woman pace in front of him. "Am I bait?"

"You already know the answer."

Stiles pressed himself against the wall, giving his cuffed hand a shake. That strange, static feeling of numbness had traversed through his hand and down to his elbow. He struggled to his feet, his other hand palming the cold wall. The Alpha watched him with glowing red eyes.

Maybe he could try from a different angle. "You called me Derek's," Stiles began, and the words felt weird in his mouth. "What did you mean by that? Because I'm not a werewolf, much less part of his pack. Which, by the way, my buddy Scott refuses to do anything about."

"Scott?" said the Alpha, tilting her head in confusion.

"Yeah," Stiles began, "the guy on the phone earlier. Who, also by the way, I'm kind of pissed at."

"How so?"

So this werewolf really wanted to hear Stiles bitch about his life at the moment? It was hard to read her face; she must be a pro in a poker tournament.

"Oh, you know," he replied slowly. "Bitten against his will. Transforms into a giant douchebag once a month. So infatuated with this girl—who also broke up with him _twice_—that he's fucking blind to everything and everyone around him ever since she showed up."

The Alpha crossed her arms. "You don't sound very fond of her," she said. "It sounds almost like resentment."

"I didn't mind her," Stiles spat out, "until she turned into a complete psycho and nearly murdered Derek's other Betas. She also didn't seem that concerned when her grandfather had me kidnapped and then _pulverized _my face."

He suddenly noticed that he was breathing hard. A ring of sweat had formed around his wrist from where the handcuff was rubbing against it.

The Alpha watched him. "I feel like we got off topic," she said. "Though your concerns are valid."

Valid? Stiles stared at her. He can't believe that he was having a heart-to-heart with an enemy werewolf.

"I also didn't introduce myself," she said, walking over to him. Stiles forced himself not to flinch when she cupped his face in her clawed hands. "I'm Kendra, Erik's second-in-command."

"Erik?" Stiles repeated. "I'm guessing he's the head honcho in your pack? The Alpha of Alphas? How does that even work, anyway?"

"Such a curious little whore, aren't you?"

Stiles' eyes widened as Kendra whipped her head around. She released his face, stepping in front of him in a protective stance.

"You're back already?" she said evenly. A man had entered the dismal room, grinning savagely. Dark blood stained his teeth, his claws outstretched and drenched up to the elbow in more blood. Stiles' heart dropped to his stomach and froze there when the new werewolf grinned at him.

"I don't see why Derek made such a huge deal out of you," he said, walking up to Kendra and Stiles. "He gave me the dirtiest look before—well, he's been incapacitated for the moment."

"Erik, what did you do?" Kendra asked, and Stiles could've sworn that he heard a trace of panic in her voice.

Erik merely did a _tsk_ing motion with one of his fingers. "Don't worry Ken," he cooed. "I haven't outright _murdered_ him. This whole trip would've been a waste if I did that. Now move aside."

Kendra reluctantly did as she was told. Erik—the Alpha's Alpha, holy shit—strode up to where Stiles was pressed against the grimy wall, slamming his bloody hands on either side of Stiles' head.

Stiles stared into his eyes, which were glowing that warning red.

"This one's not afraid," Erik smirked. "That's good. Getting you to scream as I rip your intestines out in front of your lover will much more satisfying now."

_Scott,_ Stiles silently pleaded, _get your wolfy little ass over here_ now.


	7. Derek Hale II, Scott McCall IV

The wound resulting from the Alpha's claws were taking too long to heal.

Derek clutched his sides, his breathing haggard and uneven. Deep, jagged marks spiralled up from his hips, going across his ribcage just before it ended underneath his collarbone. Dry blood was blotted around it, and it burned like hellfire.

At first he didn't understand that manic wolf's intent when he spared Derek his life. But watching the haphazard and arrogant way that he carried himself it didn't take too long to make a guess.

It was a display of power, to show Derek who was the stronger Alpha. He was a taunting bastard, flexing his prowess and rapid strength, firing off promises and insults while dealing his blows. Derek had thought that he'd kept a poker face throughout their fight. But it was when the Alpha had mentioned Stiles that Derek felt his stony exterior falter.

That moment's hesitation is what cost him the fight. The Alpha left him riddled in deep gashes, and dashed off with a vicious smirk on his face.

Derek felt his skin knitting painfully back together, closing at the seams. He stood up, grimacing as the new skin was still pink and tender. He began at a slow trot, nearly stumbling over an overgrown tree root as he made his way down the hill. He was hoping that his car was gone; that would be the signal that Stiles had managed to get away.

Speaking of the teen, Derek's head felt clearer, like the previous haze and blurriness had been stripped away from his senses. This resulted in his conscience giving him an extra stab of guilt of embarrassment from his previous… actions.

_Don't think about that now,_ Derek scolded himself. _Get back to the house._

Halfway down the hill his senses picked up a distinct scent. Stiles. Derek looked around; he obviously wasn't here anyone. He was about to sigh (either in relief or annoyance at the kid for making him worry over nothing) when he picked up another scent.

It was a foreign odour, one that he didn't recognize. But Derek had the feeling that it belonged to that second heartbeat.

He bent down low, pressing his hands to the ground. His fingers ran over upheavals of dirt and drying grass. His fingers suddenly touched cold metal. Derek picked up the jangling object; they were his keys.

"Shit." Derek quickly inspected his wounds; they were healed enough. He began with a bursting sprint, but slowed down once one of the long gashes opened up and blood spurted out. Derek looked down, his brow knitted together as he frowned.

They should've been healed by now.

About twenty minutes later he had arrived at the parking lot, his wounds closed up once more. He ran one of his hands down his chest, ending his inspection by his hipbone. Derek looked across the parking lot, spotting the Camaro. He raced down to it, only to see that all four of the tires had been slashed to ribbons by what looked like a set of claws.

Perfect, this was just fantastic. Pocketing his keys, he walked away from his first option of transportation. It would take too long to call for a tow, and even if he did wait around for it the Pack was on the move. _There was no time, there was no time…_

_"Slow down!" Laura called out, racing up to Derek. But her younger brother was either ignoring her or couldn't hear her as he dashed through the trees. _

_It was the former option._

_Derek's lean body had drastically transformed in the last two years. His arms and legs were taunt with muscle from the endless running and lifting weights whenever he could. Laura would have teased that all of her friends had asked if he was available… but that was the old Laura. Now, she watched him with wary eyes, desperately hoping for… well, he wasn't quite sure what. For him to forgive himself? To actually reach out to someone else?_

_He wished that she would hate him. It would make things easier than this guessing game._

_Finally Derek slowed within a circle of trees, barely panting. He walked into the center of it, where a lone tree stump jutted out of the ground. He sat down on it, waiting for Laura to catch up._

_"I told you to slow down!" Laura said bossily once she'd arrived. Derek rolled his eyes, and when Laura gave him a glare he looked down at his hands._

_Laura's expression softened, and flopped down next to him. She stretched out her legs in front of her, leaning back with her arms behind her. She reached out to Derek, brushing her hand against his forearm. He tried not to flinch; the gesture was still too intimate for him. _

_"I'm not going to hurt you," she said, but dropped her hand anyway. _

_Derek's face burned with shame. "Sorry," he mumbled._

_"Hey," Laura said. She got to her knees, shuffling in front of him. She ruffled his hair; a kindness that his conscience still allowed. "It's okay, alright?" _

No, it's not,_ Derek thought, but allowed his sister to embrace him slowly, encircling him with her warmth. She pressed in on him, and Derek stayed stock still, refusing to allow himself to enjoy this. _

_It had been two years, and yet…_

_Laura stiffened suddenly, and slowly drew back. Her irises bled out their Alpha red. She gave him a look, and he nodded mutely. _

_"If this is your turf, we were just passing through," she said loudly. The circle of trees were quiet, but just then a pair—a young man and a woman—walked past the tree trunks, getting closer._

_"Relax!" said the man, grinning wildly. "This isn't exactly our woodland fantasy either!" His posture was slack and casual, as if he was trying to look friendly. But from what Derek could see over Laura's shoulder, his claws were outstretched and his eyes gleaming red._

_An Alpha._

_This was bad. Derek's heart suddenly slammed into his ribcage. Two Alphas in the same space—these never ended well, Derek knew. When he was nine, an invading Alpha had tried to take over their family's territory. But that Alpha had been outnumbered, and Derek had watched silently as his father and Uncle Peter ripped the man in half with their claws._

_Would Laura be able to do the same? Derek suddenly felt his claws shoot out of his fingertips, his eyes glowing blue. He was here; he would be able to assist her like Peter had done all those years ago. _

_His courage faltered when the Alpha's partner donned the same red in her own eyes._

_Laura stood up, her back to the two Alphas. Derek gave her a warning look, but she continued to stand in front of him, refusing to move._

_"Turn around sweetie, and let's talk," crooned the man. Laura closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment's reprieve before turning to face the wolfed out pair._

_"I never knew that Alphas would willingly travel together," she said coolly. Derek slowly stood up, standing at Laura's side. He was several inches taller than her now; he had had a sudden growth spurt in the past year._

_"What can I say," grinned the Alpha man, "Two is better than one."_

_The female was a stark contrast to her partner. Her poise was military straight, with her solemn expression and blank features mirroring the man's expressive, manic ones._

_"We're not going to hurt you," she said._

_Laura raised a skeptic eyebrow. "Really? Usually, that's what one would say before inflicting said harm. Or more likely, before a threat. Hey, we'll be on our way soon enough."_

_"What's the rush?" said the man. He lazily flicked his claws in the air, the sunlight temporarily catching against it._

_"Don't start," warned the woman. She took a step forward, watching Laura carefully. "I see you have a pack," she said, glancing at Derek. "And you didn't turn him?"_

_"He's my brother," said Laura, "and my Beta."_

_"You're letting a woman boss you around?" smirked the other Alpha. "Pathetic." _

_Derek's body tensed, vibrating with anger. But Laura gently grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together, and he felt his heart rate slow. _

_"I'm not sure how your pack works," she said, "but in our family, it was the eldest child that would take on the role of pack leader."_

_"So you're from a family of born werewolves?" asked the female Alpha._

_Laura kept silent. "So __**how**__ does an all-Alpha pack work anyway?" _

_"Who knows?" shrugged the man. "This is our first time testing those waters, aren't they?" He grinned at his partner, who ignored him._

_"I'm Erik, by the way," said the man. He walked closer until he was a couple feet from where Laura and Derek stood. He stretched out his hand, as if wanting to shake. Derek noticed a tattoo on the inside of his wrist—it was a symbol strikingly similar to the triskelion that his family adorned on their flesh._

_Laura hesitated, watching his hand. The claws were still outstretched on his. Erik sighed dramatically, dropping his hand. "Not very friendly, are you?"_

_"I was taught to be cautious of potential threats," Laura replied evenly._

_Erik nodded lazily. "Good enough."_

_Erik,_ Derek thought, feeling his body tense up from the memory. That was his name. It had been so long, yet how could have he been so stupid to forget the existence of such a pack?

Bending down next to the ruined tires, Derek traced his hands over the rubber. He breathed in the smell, and detected the same scent from back in the woods.

Could that second Alpha still be the same one from four years ago?

Derek looked up, and narrowed his eyes when a car rolled into the parking spot just across from him. He recognized that vehicle from anywhere, but stood his ground as a figure slid out of it.

"You look like you could use a hand with that flat."

* * *

The warehouse was blanketed in darkness, smothering the two of them as they entered it. Scott's vision went red as he tried to scan the area in front of him. Isaac was at his side, his claws already extended.

"Can you pick up anything?" Scott asked him. "Maybe his scent?"

"I never did get a good whiff of his shoe," Isaac murmured.

"There has to be something here," Scott said, and walked ahead of him, searching blindly in the dark. According to Isaac, there should be two more floors above them. Scott had negated the option of splitting up; they could barely take on an Alpha each, and there was the possibility that one of them would get ambushed.

He wanted to shout out Stiles' name, if only to hear a muffled, sarcastic comment come from one of the rooms. But he couldn't risk it; they needed the advantage of a surprise attack.

"You sure you don't want to do the Scooby Doo method?" Isaac asked him.

Scott shook his head. "Not today."

Loud banging suddenly ensued above their heads. The two of them gave each other a quick glance before rushing towards the nearest stairs. The place had been silent before, so that must mean—

"Stiles? Stiles!" Scott shouted as they reached the next floor. He skirted around the corner, making his way toward the source of the noise.


End file.
